His Previous Profession
by Kiki's Fan Service
Summary: When Spock was at the Academy, he was a stripper, to pay the bills. It was a logical choice at the time. Now, as first officer, he has to use that skill on an alien planet. Kirk sees and is completely turned on. Guess who's getting sex! K/S


st_xi_kink meme prompt: Ok. So when Spock turned down the VSA, Sarek was not impressed. So he cuts Spock out of his life - which includes any cash Spock might need to get to/Live on Earth. So he has to get a job... As a stripper. Good money, hours he can fit around studies = logical!

Flash to after the film. Spock is forced to pole dance (I don't know why, ok) to save everyones lives on a mission. Maybe the aliens just want a dance, maybe it has to be sexual, I don't know. And Spock busts out some sexy moves and saves them and then is pounced on by Kirk has been watching him from afar and now can't hold himself back.

Bonus: Spock isn't embarrassed or full of traumatic memories. Dancing was just something he did for cash, and it made him powerful.

Bonus bonus: Bottom!Spock.

Bonus bonus bonus: McCoy or someone suddenly remembers going to a club to watch Spock dance as a cadet and is horrified/amazed/will never look at him the same way again

--

Spock was distraught. He was on Earth, beginning his studies at Star Fleet, and his father had just cut him out of his life completely for doing so. Spock had no money, and thus no housing and no food. He was barely surviving so far, and he needed to make money, fast. He was strolling around Downtown San Francisco just before evening, looking for a job, any job. And then, a rather large, wealthy-looking man had stepped out of a club as he passed, and said man's eyes widened. He ran up to the Vulcan, and introduced himself enthusiastically.

"Hello, hello, hello. I'm Brandon Jacobson."

"I do not understand your intention in making this contact, sir."

"I would like to offer you a chance to earn a lot of money."

Spock perked up at the sound of money, and listened more intently. "Money?"

"Yeah. You ever heard of strippers, kid?"

"I believe I have read about them in my studies of Terran culture. What does that have to do with me?"

"You, my dear Vulcan, have a great," the man looked him over appraisingly, "A fantastic body, the agility, and the exotic appeal that would be perfect for my club. With a little training, you could be raking in big bucks for both of us."

Spock considered for a while. He did not feel completely comfortable with the prospect, but as a stripper, he would have good money, he remembered that much from his studies.

"I am in Starfleet, Mr. Jacobson. Would my hours coincide with my lessons in any way?"

"Oh, no, we can work out a schedule, no problem, Mr.--"

"Spock."

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Spock. Can you come back tomorrow night at 7 for some rehearsal?"

"I… Certainly. I will be present at 7."

"Excellent!" and the man wrung his hand and went off in the opposite direction. Spock narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and walked into the club cautiously. He stopped just before the door, and simply observed the gyrating, teasing dancers at the front of the stage. His brow creased thoughtfully as he retreated to the flat that he rented, for now. Four more days until he was kicked out and he might actually have a chance. He had some strip-tease lesson videos to research.

Spock arrived at the club at seven o'clock precisely the next evening, wearing his typical black turtleneck and tight black jeans. He went over some of the things he had learned the night before in his head, and awaited the arrival of his possible future employer. The whole transaction was moving rather quickly, but he was confident that he would be able to pass whatever test he was called on to perform.

Just then, the man from the previous night, Mr. Jacobson, burst out of a side door and rushed up to Spock, his tie crumpled. He was sweating profusely and wiped some perspiration off his forehead as he tried to explain something to Spock.

"Mr. Spock! You have to hurry. I'm going to have you watch the next performer, and then you have to go up there, because one of my guys isn't here. He just disappeared and I have no idea what to do…" And he blabbered on, stumbling over his words as he continued talking until Spock raised a finger and interrupted him.

"I can do it."

" You can?!" Hope shone in the man's eyes, and then he steeled himself and went straight to business. "Do you know Bad Romance by the 21st century singer Lady Gaga?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Great, you're dancing to it, come here." And he dragged the Vulcan through the door he had exited. He pulled Spock over to the wardrobe and grabbed a top hat, tails, black, pressed short shorts, a profuse amount of glitter, and a pair of fishnets.

"Go shower, kid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"And shave your legs while you're at it. You have 45 minutes. GO!"

Spock went into the other room and showered quickly and shaved his legs. He got out of the shower and ran the towel over his body, ruffled his hair and grabbed the odd clothing that the man had laid out for him.

He slipped on the tights and shorts, and then grabbed the tailed coat jacket and pulled it on. It revealed just enough of his chest and chest hair to look risqué, and he buttoned the jacket neatly before gelling his hair back and placing the top hat upon his head.

A woman bustled in and stuck glitter to his face, his chest, his abdomen.

And then she showed him the platform, spiked high heels that he had to wear. Spock thanked the universe that he had his Vulcan training, because those shoes were hard to walk in with that.

He went over the things he had learned the night before, going over the various rhythms, beats and processes that he needed to know. He then played the 'Bad Romance' track in his head, and tried to work out a rough routine. He tapped the flustered woman on the shoulder as she searched for some lavender eye shadow for his lids and asked her, "What props do I get?"

She stared at him awkwardly, and answered, "You get a pole. I don't think you get anything else, especially for your first time. Try not to lose too many of the clothes, okay, hun?" He nodded slightly as he closed his eyes for her to apply the shadow and eye liner.

He opened his eyes, and he was slowly changing. He wasn't Spock anymore. He turned to the lady again and asked her, "Do I need a name?"

"No, not yet. If you get more popular, we'll give you a name. It won't be your real name."

"Good." He nodded.

There was silence as she finished touching up his face. "And you're done!"

Spock gazed at the mirror. There was green blush, accenting his cheek bones, wing tipped eyeliner and a lavender eye shadow as well as mascara. There was glitter everywhere, even on the tips of his ears, and he had light pink lipstick on his lips. The woman had also changed his hair. It draped in front of his eyes, jagged, and spiked up slightly in the back. She placed the top hat on top of that and wiped her hands off on her dress.

Spock stood up and wandered over to the edge of the crowd, watching the man onstage move and contort himself in time to the music, slowly removing his clothing to the fascination of the audience. Spock knew he could do better. He knew he would do better.

He turned at the sound of someone calling his name, and stepped further back into the dressing room as the manager, Mr. Jacobson spoke to him.

"I'm giving you a name. Something like the Vulcan Prince. How do you say Prince in Vulcan?"

"King is **sa-te'kru**. Is that what you mean?"

"Excellent. Sounds hot. Once you get popular, we'll call you that. Sa-te'kru. Yeah. I like it. Sounds sexy."

And the lights were glaring at him as he stepped lightly to the stage in his heels, whistles in the background as the pounding music changed to 'Bad Romance' and be grabbed the pole with one hand, the other on his hip, and faced the audience, thrusting his hips slightly in time with the beat…


End file.
